


predatory

by brokenglass



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Gen, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1700834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenglass/pseuds/brokenglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jax Austin is twenty one when she makes her debut on Raw. It takes one match for people to realise that Jax is not your regular WWE Diva. And when superstar Roman Reigns questions her ability, a chain reaction is set off. In the animal kingdom, the lone wolf never survives. But within Evolution, you either adapt, or you perish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	predatory

**Author's Note:**

> “It is not violence that sets men apart, but the distance that he is prepared to go”
> 
> Anger and rage, they surge through us at a thousand miles an hour and cling to us. They turn us from humans to predators in the blink of an eye. They heighten our senses; we hear every step, every breath. Jax Austin is twenty one when she makes her debut on Raw. It takes one match for people to realise that Jax is not your regular WWE Diva. And when superstar Roman Reigns questions her ability, a chain reaction is set off. In the animal kingdom, the lone wolf never survives. But within Evolution, you either adapt, or you perish.

The anger and the rage bubbles up inside of me like hot lava. I can feel the electricity surging through my veins and the sweat on my brow. My fingers itch and tingle, longing to reach out and wrap themselves around the closest limb to me and squeeze the life out of it. My boyfriend ceases to notice my sudden change of demeanour, and he continues to shout insults at me as my hands grip onto the back of the chair so hard I fear it may break. 

“You really think there’s someone out there that can cope with your stupid condition better than I can, Jax?” Rob knows better than to provoke me. I don’t reply. I shut my eyes tight and try not to lose my temper, in fear of what I might do. 

“You think its easy living with you? When at every waking moment I worry that something can set you off and turn you into a wild animal?” I take a shark intake of breath and finally turn to look at him. 

“Don’t make this about you,” I hiss, letting go of the chair suddenly. Rob steps back quickly, as if I’m about to erupt and it only angers me more. 

“I’m not leaving because of you, it was never about you. It was about pursuing my dream, doing something with my life and getting away from everything that’s ever happened to me here.” Rob lets out a mocking chuckle and walks over to the fireplace where there’s a photo of us taken a few years ago. He picks it up and looks at it for a few moments before placing it back on the fireplace. 

“You know, we wouldn’t have met if it wasn’t for your bloody condition,” I roll my eyes at him. The amount of times he’s used the ‘condition’ card in our arguments is unbelievable. The condition that he’s talking about is IED. Intermittent Explosive Disorder, a condition in which the person effected experiences expressions of extreme anger, and sometimes to the point of uncontrollable rage, when provoked. My parents, however uncaring they were, took me to the doctors when I was a mere five years old because of angry and violent I got when a kid pushed in front of me in the dinner queue at school. It didn’t affect me all that much during my younger years, there wasn’t all that much that could provoke me when I was that young. But by the time I moved up to secondary school, the problems started to show. It was only when I was in the headmaster’s office for my third fight in two weeks when the P.E teacher sat me down and spoke to me about the possibility of taking up a sport where I could vent. That sport, was wrestling. And now, after nine years of training and scouts, it it’s finally time for me to go big. I debut at Raw in three days, and my flight leaves for the States in a few hours. 

“Listen, Rob, deciding to go follow my dreams was never about leaving you. But ever since I told you about the opportunity, you’ve just wanted to ruin. Just because you feel like you’re the only one who is able to cope with me does not mean that I have to stay in this wretched place forever. So now I am leaving you, because if you’re the only one who can cope; then so be it. For now, I’m going to do what’s best for me,” I grab my bags from the floor before my anger makes me say something that I’ll regret, and I storm out of the apartment. The new start of my life begins when the taxi arrives and I step inside. 

THREE DAYS LATER

As the referee lifts my arm in victory, I can hardly contain my excitement. The crowd cheer in excitement and I momentarily let my eyes flit over to the commentary table. As if having your Raw debut wasn’t nerve racking enough, having CCO, Triple H otherwise known as Hunter sitting in on the match made it all the more nerve racking. He’s smirking, clapping slowly as he gets to his feet. My theme music is blaring out around the arena, but slowly gets quieter as Hunter takes a microphone from the time keeper and makes his way into the ring. There’s a mixed reaction from the crowd. Some boo and some chant his name and I look on in wonder as Hunter soaks up the attention. When the music is finally off, and the crowd have somewhat quietened down, Hunter begins to speak.

“Jax, I don’t think I’m the only one who found that impressive,” The crowd cheer in response. 

“And as the CCO of this company, it is my duty to make sure that it is the best that it can be. And with Payback looming so close, it is my duty to make it the best that it can be. Tonight, you showed the world that you have evolved, that you have—“ Before Hunter can finish his speech, the music blares up again. It takes me a moment to process the sound, until it registers with me who it is. Coming through the audience is The Shield, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose; all looking like they’re ready for a fight. My senses heighten instantly, I can hear their footsteps over the noise of the crowd, and I can hear Hunters heavy, angered breathes beside me.

The three of them step into the ring with microphones, Ambrose and Rollins look pissed off, though I can’t seem to think why. They have no involvement with me, Triple H, yes, but not me. Reigns tosses the microphone up and down in his hands a few times, staring at me intently before turning to Triple H. 

“We all know what you’re going to say next, Triple H. Jax Austin has adapted, that Evolution has not passed her by and blah, blah, blah,” Hunter raises his eyebrows at Roman, urging him to continue. 

“We’ve heard enough, Triple H. This kid beats another kid and suddenly, the whole damn speech about adapting and perishing comes out again. It’s not that we’re bored of that speech, Triple H; it’s just how do I put this nicely? It’s getting old. There’s only so many times you can describe somebody who has ‘evolved’ and you know, your judgement of talent has started to fade. Seriously, we thought you had lost in when you made that cream puff Orton the face of Raw? But now, now this,” Roman pauses to wave his hand in my direction. He smirks. My body starts to tingle as the electricity, as the feelings of rage start to surge through me. He’s provoking me, he’s unaware of what these seemingly harmless back hand comments are doing to my subconscious.

“This new breed of talent is on a whole new level” Roman finishes, smirking at me like he’s a big tough bastard. Before I can think about what I am doing, I snatch the microphone from Triple H’s hand and step so close to Roman that our bodies touch. He is tall, a head or more taller than me and I look up at him with my eyes blazing. He stares down at me, clenching at his jaw. He looks like he half expects me to slap him, but I won’t. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I do it purposely, and Roman, Ambrose and Rollins fall for it as they all laugh like I’ve just lost my nerve. I drop the microphone to the floor, feeling the heat of my skin increase. Suddenly I turn, slamming my arm across Roman’s face so hard that it causes him to lose his balance. 

Within seconds, chaos breaks out. While Roman is down, I send a drop kick to the stomach of Ambrose as Hunter takes care of Rollins. With all of my strength, I semi-lift Dean onto my shoulders before slamming his body down onto the mat. He lays there, squirming as the pain of the impact takes over his body, satisfied that he is down and out; I quickly turn to Roman who is slowly getting to his feet. Triple H finishes Seth with a pedigree and I stare at Roman with an almost animalistic hunger to finish him myself. He wobbles a little as he finally gets to his feet and I wait, wait until he is in the perfect position for me to strike. As of yet I have not been able to show anyone my finisher. When Reigns is only a few steps away from me, I strike. I jump so that I’m in mid air when my arm smashes into his neck, sending him crashing into the mat. He hits it with a tremendous crack, and when he doesn’t move after the collision, I know that my finisher finished him. 

I reach down to grab a microphone that is lying beside a barely conscious Roman Reigns, I stay knelt beside him so that our faces are close. I bring the microphone to my lips as the rush of adrenalin starts to settle in my body. The anger though, does not completely subside. 

“What were you saying, Roman? Oh yeah, something about a new breed? Guess what, when you come around you’ll wonder what the hell happened to you. And everyone, every single person that just witnessed you fall, will be able to tell you, that this ‘new breed’ just kicked your sorry ass.” I drop the microphone so that it falls and hits Roman in the face, making the speakers screech. The crowd screams and cheers frantically as they start my music up again. I look around at the bodies in the ring, and though I know that it is a result of my short temper and a few back handed insults, something inside of me feels proud. There, lying in the ring are three grown men, sprawled out unconscious. Something that I induced, Hunter ushers me out of the ring, a smug smile plastered on his handsome face. As we walk up the ramp, Hunter’s arm slips around my waist and he leans so close to me that his lips brush my ear. 

“Welcome to Evolution, Jax.”


End file.
